Diamond Dust
by Shadow of Light
Summary: There is a saying amongst the dwarves of the noble houses: Even the most prized of diamonds can be shattered and ground to dust. Where the casteless dwell, there is another saying: Not all that is dust is without value. AU Brosca/Aeducan/Alistair/Zevran


_Author's Note: This is a slightly extended version of a story I wrote for the Fine Dwarven Crafts competition, which required the subject matter to involve (naturally) something to do with dwarves ;) _

_The M rating is for language only. Alternate Universe where both Brosca and Aeducan are recruited into the Grey Wardens. Alistair and Zevran both feature. Hope you enjoy. _

* * *

_There is a saying amongst the dwarves of the noble houses:_  
"_Even the most prized of diamonds can be shattered and ground to dust."  
__Where the casteless dwell, there is another saying:  
_"_Not all that is dust is without value."_

~ V ~

The scandal had the entire Warrior Caste in an uproar.

A duster, a casteless brand, sneaking into the Provings. She had donned armour forged by a true dwarf's hands, taken up weapons meant for her betters, entered the Stone-blessed arena and dishonoured all tradition.

A cursory note, a _technical detail_, that she had soundly beaten every opponent. Had Everd not woken from his drunken stupor to stumble and slur his identity to the spectators, the criminal impostor would have been hailed as Orzammar's new champion.

All knew that dust was worthless. It was less than dirt. It came from nothing, grew nothing, settled on everything as an annoying, unsightly blanket of grit until swept away and disposed of. Jewels, metals and stone only shone their brightest and revealed their full lustre when untouched by base muck, and this brand had tarnished much by her audacity.

Orzammar had to be kept clean.

But on the edge of her escape from execution, the Grey Wardens took her in and lifted her up…

~ V ~

One week later, the Diamond Quarter was buzzing with gossip.

The king's favoured child, the princess rumoured to be the next heir despite having an elder brother, labelled a kin slayer and sentenced to the Deep Roads. Murder, intrigue and assassination were hardly new things in the kingdom, but she had dirtied her own hands doing the deed and left witnesses to tell the tale.

Foolish to the extreme. The speculative gossip at Tapsters all agreed it would have been more prudent to arrange death via other means if she'd truly wanted to secure the throne for herself. All she had achieved was clear the way for her younger sibling.

Once the brightest gem in Orzammar's crown, now stained and blackened by dishonour. The old king had had no choice but to disown his daughter to protect the Aeducan name. She had been sentenced, stripped of her House, cast down into the dark where none would have to look upon her and know of the shame she had caused.

Swept out like refuse. Like dust.

She fought her way down through the darkspawn until she too found the Grey Wardens. They took her in, and drew her deeper…

~ V ~

"Lady Aeducan," Duncan said in surprise, putting up his blade.

"Lady Who-now?" a voice queried, and the other three Wardens stepped aside, glancing down at the dwarf accompanying them. The girl's eyes were wide as she gawked at the newcomer. "Sodding Stone! You don't see the shiny royalty scuttling around in the mud every day. Where're your guards? And your boots?"

After one look at the brand marking cheek and brow, the once-time princess drew herself up and attempted to look as dignified as possible with dirt caking her bare feet and blood matting her hair. "You take in dusters now, Ser Duncan?" she asked coolly.

"We take in anyone who has the mettle to fight the darkspawn, my lady," Duncan replied in a calmer voice.

"Shaming the entire Warrior Caste might have helped a bit too," the brand interjected cheerfully. "What're you doing down here, Diamond Quarter?"

"Serving my sentence, Dust Town," was the sharp response. "I'm in exile for murder."

"The old 'I'm innocent' line didn't work, eh?"

Duncan interrupted. "This is not the time or place for discussing Orzammar's laws and politics, I'm afraid. My lady, I have heard of your skill from your father and that you reached us here only justifies his words. I formally invite you too to join the Grey Wardens. Our need for recruits at this time is desperate, and to return to Ostagar with two instead of one would be a fine thing."

The lady regarded the four tall men and the grinning duster. Even if, by some miracle, she followed the right tunnels and reached the surface on her own, she had no idea where to go after that and no trusted second to watch her back. She didn't even know what amounted to food up there.

"C'mon, princess," the brand urged. "You got nothing else, just like me. Sod the nug-humpers who wanted you dead. You and me, we can show these skyers how dwarven women brawl."

Aeducan gave Brosca a silent look, vaguely wondering how anyone had the gall to address a lady of the noble caste so familiarly, yet oddly grateful she was being _friendly_.

Swallowing back a bitter, lonely taste in her mouth, she lifted her eyes to Duncan and managed to nod her assent.

"Then welcome," the Warden Commander said. "We should continue without delay. I will answer any questions you have once we are safely out of the Deep Roads."

Without pause, he took point and began leading the way up the wide, dwarf-hewn tunnel.

Aeducan started when a pair of boots were thrust under her nose.

"I scrounged 'em off a corpse a while back," Brosca explained. "You should put 'em on before you stand on something nasty. Broken stone and steel cut up the soles something fierce; learned that the hard way back home. So…you got a name, Diamond Quarter?"

"I used to. But not anymore," the former noble muttered, taking the boots with gingerly fastidious hands. They were worn and unsightly things of patched leather, unbecoming of a princess. Fitting for an exile.

She put them on. "Why take his boots?"

"'Sgood coin in boots! I went through his pockets as well, of course, but he only had a silver ring. And Ser Duncan said there wasn't time to filch his teeth."

"His…what? His _teeth_?"

The brand grinned widely, flashing her own in the dark. "I know a guy. So, anyway, no name? I'll just call you Diamond until you think of one you like. And you can call me Dust."

The lady trotted after her and the Wardens. "_You _don't have a name?"

There was a soft laugh. "Not yet. But once we get topside…" There was that grin again, but wider and fierce with anticipation as a thumb jerked towards the ceiling. "Up there, I'm going to _make _a name."

The duster nodded firmly to herself and added, almost too quietly to be heard, "You'll see. One day it'll be carved into the sodding Stone."

~ V ~

The black ceiling was strewn with tiny lights and the floor was thick with a cold white substance that glittered like crystals. Huge plants with spindly green fronds sprouted in profusion, bedecked with more of the white stuff. Where the Wardens strode through the drifts they left deep prints.

"What's this?" the duster asked, poking a hard chunk that had broken off into the mouth of the cave. Beside her, her noble-caste kin stared up at the sparkling lights in the dark with open fascination.

"Snow," one of the Wardens said. He bent and scooped up a handful, then grinned at the dwarves. "You'll be seeing a lot of it before we get out of the Frostback Mountains."

"Seeing it," another of Duncan's companions agreed dryly, "walking through it, sleeping on it, and bathing in it. At least until we reach civilisation."

"How do you wash in something that…_oh_…" She nodded as the Warden's snow began to melt and drip in the warmth of his grip. "It's crystallised water? Is it clean?"

"If it's freshly fallen, like this?" The Warden lifted it to his mouth and took a bite. "Mmhm. Cold though. Personally I'd rather do this with it." And, taking a step behind his distracted friend, dumped the handful down the back of his gambeson.

"Hey! What the f—_argh_!"

Duncan sighed and shook his head as duster and rogue Warden burst into laughter, then turned to the lady when she caught his eye and pointed upwards.

"Ser Duncan?" she said. "I always heard the sky was a rich blue, like lyrium, and that there was a single bright light up there called the sun. They say it's bright enough to light half the Deep Roads. But…" she trailed off, looking confusedly at him.

"In a few hours it will be indeed be like that," Duncan confirmed. "Until then you will learn that the sky has many colours depending on where the sun is." He smiled behind his short-cut human beard. "Much like a diamond when the light strikes at the right angle, my lady."

Duncan followed her gaze and looked thoughtful. "We call these lights stars."

"There are so many of them," the duster noted quietly, awed, her face also lifting to the night. "Like sparkly sand."

"Or diamond dust," the noble agreed with a sidelong glance and small smile, which was rewarded with a huge grin.

~ V ~

In the weeks it took to reach the Hinterlands, the two dwarven women became accustomed to the sights, smells and sounds of the surface. They heard the rage of a thunderstorm, felt the fall of snowflakes on their faces, came to appreciate the scents of grass and fallen leaves, saw the arc of a rainbow span the sky, sampled foods they'd never laid eyes on before.

Diamond said that dawn was her favourite time of day, when the sun was just rising and sent that first piercing ray of light over the horizon; Dust preferred sunset, when the colours were sultry and dark, sinking all into shadow so that the stars could come out.

They shared a tent and began a tentative friendship, sharing their stories. Dust spoke of her life as one of the casteless, of her mother, sister and Leske, the friend she'd had to leave behind…her salroka. In return, Diamond told of her brothers, her father, and Gorim, the trusted second who had been exiled from Orzammar for her shame.

The noble never said if she had killed Trian Aeducan, and the duster never asked.

~ V ~

"_Know that whatever you do now, you bear all the honour and pride of House Aeducan."_

Dust whistled low and handed the letter back. "That's good, right? Your dad still loves you."

"Aye." Diamond wiped her eyes and hugged her knees.

"And you have a name after all…"

"Kol Aeducan."

"Magna Brosca." Dust gave her shoulder a light push. "Don't worry, salroka, we'll get to Orzammar in time." She stood. "Now, I better go explain to Alistair why we left Denerim in such a hurry without stopping to look up his sister…"

~ V ~

"Feathers! We need you!"

Zevran walked over with that predatory prowl of his, one blond brow arched and a smile teasing his lips as he gazed down on the two dwarven women seated near the campfire.

"Of course you need me," he agreed. "But for what particular purpose, ladies? Something dirty, I hope?"

"You can do tattoos, right?" Magna demanded. "Kol wants some on her face so she can be a proper brand. Here, I did pictures!"

Zevran took the brandished parchment and hummed to himself. "This I can do. Have you received ink before, my Jewel?"

Ever since he'd heard the names the two women called each other, and suffered himself to be called 'Feathers' by Magna after his Crow calling, Zevran had devised his own pet names for them: Jewel for the noble, Velvet for the duster, though one had to know what beggar's velvet was to understand the why.

"I have a tattoo around my navel," Kol said, lifting the bottom of her hardened leather shirt. "See?"

Zevran was grinning. "Marvellous. Did you perhaps have any others you'd be interested in displaying?"

"Not in public," the former princess said primly, but her tone was belied by an arch smile. "If you have to bathe and massage me as part of that 'ritual' you described to Alistair, though, you'll see them soon enough."

"Truly? And if I wished to do more than look at these markings of yours, more than touch them with just my fingertips…?" He left it hanging.

"Then it goes both ways, Zev. I believe you also told Alistair you had your tattoos in more places than your back?"

The elf bowed low, which brought his face almost on level with hers, and smiled once more. "You would do well to change into something comfortable, my Jewel, and light a lamp in your tent. I shall fetch my needles, ink and massage oils."

Magna broke into laughter when Zevran had sauntered safely out of earshot. "Ancestors' balls, Diamond Quarter! What in the Stone's liquid-fire heart kind of princess _were _you?"

Kol grinned as she got up. "The kind that snuck out of the palace when no one was watching, played drinking games at Tapsters and cheated at Diamondback. And the kind of princess who hasn't had a man since G—since getting herself exiled for fratricide." Her smile had abruptly vanished.

"You all right, salroka?" Magna asked quietly.

"Aye. I'll be fine." Kol tapped her friend's shoulder and pointed to where Alistair was throwing a stick for the dog's amusement. "Look, Dust Town, there's no reason why you should sleep alone either. I've seen him watching you."

"Pft. He's a prince, so he's Noble Caste. I'm still surprised he talks to me without spitting."

"I think humans do it differently." Kol smirked. "I certainly hope _elves _do."

"Ha ha. _Funny_."

"Think about it," the princess said with a smile, and left.

Magna did think, then watch Alistair for a while in an appraising sort of way, then shrug to herself, get up and wander over.

"Hey!" she began when Alistair noticed her and grinned adorably. "So, I was thinking. We're friends, right? I've called you handsome, you've called me beautiful, so how about joining me in my tent tonight?"

His expression changed _instantly._ "Your tent? _Ah_."

"Sod…I knew it. Forget I said anything." Magna tried to back off and save them both any embarrassment. "It's the caste thing, isn't it?"

"What? No, nothing like that! It's just so sudden and…and it's not that I haven't _thought_ about it but I was brought up to treat ladies like _ladies_ and…" He gulped a deep breath. "You'd want to be courted like that, right? If you were being courted, that is…"

"_Courted_? Alistair, I'm no…_lady_."

"Could've fooled me." He grinned slightly. "I mean, sure, you can twist a darkspawn's arm clean off in a fight, but you're gorgeous and smart and you're always there for me and…and I think you deserve better than being pawed and drooled over. Am I…wrong?"

"I've never…" Magna stared, painfully aware of the heat rushing to her cheeks. "No…you're not wrong, Alistair. Maybe we'll try that courting thing, aye?" She nodded. "See how it goes?"

He relaxed visibly and smiled.

~ V ~

The floor of Jarvia's base was slippery with blood. Magna skidded across the stone, dropping her axe on her way to where Leske was folded around a chest wound. The duster had seen enough injuries in her time as a carta thug and a Grey Warden to know when one was fatal, but it didn't stop her from tearing off her pack and tipping out leather-protected poultice cases and bandages.

"You sodding stone-head!" she accused, attempting to get Leske to uncurl so she could get at his wound. "Why'd you do that? You could've sided with me. I could've gotten you out of this mud-hole!"

Her friend's body convulsed as she tried to apply a poultice, then abruptly went limp.

"Leske? _Leske_!" Magna's fist thumped hard against his chest._ "_Damn you, duster, don't give in! Jarvia's dead and I'm getting you out of here, you hear me? _Get the fuck up_!"

Alistair went to her side and carefully touched her shoulder while Kol and Zevran drew away, the assassin mired in a past betrayal and the princess brooding over a future one…

~ V ~

"You gave him the crown!" Magna shouted at Kol over the din of deshyrs and guards fighting one another. "You gave Harrowmont the sodding crown! You promised—!"

"Can we argue about this when people aren't trying to kill us, Dust Town?" Kol yelled, and plunged into the fray.

Magna cursed, infuriated and bewildered, but charged after her, slamming her shield and swinging her axe at anyone with the bad sense to get in her way. Kol was slipping effortlessly through the press of bodies, heading straight for Bhelen, who was doing his level best to skewer the king. Magna wasn't as fast on her feet and was forced to fight her way to her friend's side. A sword struck her helm and a deshyr's staff almost took her feet out from under her, but these were _nobles_ and warrior caste—they didn't know how to scrap like a duster.

By the time she reached the royal siblings they were a whirlwind of blades and snarling words, hate contorting both of their faces.

"How does it feel, brother?" Kol was taunting as she evaded and struck. "How does it feel to _lose_?"

"I haven't lost yet, dear sister," Bhelen sneered back at her, responding with a flurry of heavy blows.

"How does it feel to have the Stone crumble under your feet?"

"How does it feel to get a real taste for betrayal? Do you feel a little glow of triumph and satisfaction inside?"

"I'll get all the satisfaction I need from gutting you."

Bhelen laughed breathlessly. "Father's perfect little girl! If he could see you now…the blood-thirsty killer of both his sons."

Magna had positioned herself behind Bhelen by this point, and gasped in disbelief at that news. "You _did _kill Trian!"

Bhelen whirled instinctively to lash at her and Magna got her shield up in time, but then two blades burst from the prince's breastplate and he gasped in equal measures shock and pain. He sank to the floor, mouth open and eyes wide, his sister leaning in against his back to drive her swords even deeper. They _screeched _as the keen edges cut against his armour.

"Bhelen played me and Trian," Kol explained steadily, her lips close to her brother's left ear. The melee that still raged around them seemed to fade, leaving the three of them in a circle of calm. "He tricked me into believing Trian intended to murder me, then told Trian I intended to move against him. We fought, and I killed Trian believing it was for my own self-preservation. Bhelen bribed a respected noble and a scout to give false testimony against me, and ensured I was sentenced without a trial before the Assembly."

The prince's breath rattled and bubbled. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and into his beard. "Good plan…wasn't it?" he rasped. "I was always…brilliant. Father should…have recognised me." Head lolling to one side, still impaled, he somehow managed to twist his face around, look at his sister in the eye and grimace a smile. "But you…did good too…sister. Impressed…really, I am. Kin slayer."

One of Kol's blades slid free with a sucking sound and flashed in a horizontal arc, removing Bhelen's head. It spun across the floor while the body spasmed and slumped.

Magna stared at the former princess as she wiped her brother's blood from her weapons. "You did all this so you could set him up like he did you and Trian, didn't you?"

"I did." There was a note of deep satisfaction in Kol's voice. She was staring down at her brother's corpse with glittering eyes as though etching the sight of it into her memories…carving it into the Stone of her mind…

The duster backed away and turned her face from the scene. The battle was over, she noticed. Alistair was talking to Harrowmont and Zevran was checking the bodies of the fallen, though his amber eyes turned frequently to where Kol stood and his expression was concerned.

"Are you all right?"

Magna jumped. "Alistair! Don't"—she punched his arm—"sneak up on me like that!"

"Ow! Sorry!" He gave her a worried look. "Sooo…bit of a twist there."

"Aye…" Magna frowned. She had a feeling she was forgetting something important.

"Harrowmont as the new king!" Alistair tried for a chuckle. "He seems nicer than Bhelen, anyway. Kol's brother always felt so…I don't know. Slimy?"

"I guess. Being nice doesn't mean Harrowmont'll be a good king."

"I don't know much about dwarven castes and stuff but…ah…" He lowered his voice. "Tell me. What will this mean for your sister Rica? Will she be all right? It's just that you had your heart so set on Bhelen and—"

Magna gave him a startled look, the fractured pieces of her thoughts finally clicking back together, and she ran from the Chambers of the Assembly without bothering to answer.

~ V ~

"Lord Har—I mean, King Harrowmont." Kol genuflected as was appropriate for the ruler of Orzammar, and the aging dwarf bade her rise.

"I was somewhat surprised at the turn of events back there, my lady," the new king admitted. "You supported your brother with dedication but gave me the crown. Not that I am ungrateful for the outcome, but might I inquire why?"

"Revenge, your majesty," Kol said quietly. "After what Bhelen set up I wanted to get him back. I can't say I didn't enjoy it."

"I see."

"My only regret," she went on as Harrowmont sat down, "is that supporting Bhelen tarnished your House's name. I hope the damage can be repaired. Here." She pulled out the copies of the forged documents Vartag had given her. "Houses Helmi and Dace have been made to believe you were cheating them. I knew, I had the Shaperate check the legitimacy of the papers, but I convinced the deshyrs to withdraw their support for you anyway so I could win Bhelen's trust." She bowed her head. "For that I apologise. You were the only one who believed I was not fully to blame for Trian's death."

Pyral sighed. "Lords Helmi and Dace will see the truth soon enough. Little harm has been done, but I appreciate your apology."

"I also have a favour to ask of you, your majesty."

"You are the daughter of my friend and the reason I am now king. You may ask."

"My brother…Bhelen…he had a concubine from Dust Town—Rica Brosca by name."

Harrowmont nodded. "I know of her. The noble hunter. She bore Bhelen a son."

"Rica is the sister of Magna, the other dwarf Warden who was with me. With Bhelen's attempted coup in the Chamber of the Assembly he is dishonoured and stripped of the Aeducan name." Kol took a deep breath. "I ask that you not banish Rica and my nephew back into Dust Town."

"My lady, I have no such intention. I like to think I am a fair man. Magna Brosca won me Orzammar's throne as much as you did. You may rest assured I will see to the needs of the babe and his family."

Kol inclined her head, relief flooding through her. "I also ask that, if you die without issue and the boy has proven himself worthy when he's grown, your majesty would consider recommending him as your successor."

Pyral chuckled, a smile visible behind his braided beard. "The grandson of my old friend, your father, will bear watching, my lady. I promise I will remember your request."

"Thank you. May the Ancestors smile upon House Harrowmont, and the Stone always bear you up."

She strode out of the throne room, intending to seek Magna out. In her heart she did not believe Harrowmont was the king Orzammar needed; just because her father had made him swear Bhelen would not take the throne didn't mean Endrin would have agreed with Pyral succeeding him. And because of Harrowmont's lifetime of loyalty to her father and kindness to herself, she felt ashamed hoping that the new monarch wouldn't live long enough to bring the already dwindling dwarven empire to ruin.

~ V ~

"_You traitor! I have nothing to say to you. You are not my sister!"_

Rica's words still echoed in her ears.

Magna wandered the palace in a daze, too numbed by what had happened and the furious tears of her sister to pay attention to where she was going. Priceless carvings and jewels that decorated the corridors were passed by, un-appraised.

Prince Bhelen was dead and dishonoured, and with him went Rica's hopes to be lifted out of Orzammar's gutter. She'd be swept back into Dust Town with mother and baby.

She wondered how long it would be before the boy was branded. Then she pondered how the little family would _survive_. Mother was useless for anything but drinking herself to insensibility, the baby would be nothing but a mouth to feed for years, and Rica not only had no patron, but with another man's child at her breast she would be unlikely to land another. There was no one to provide for them, and say what you like about the carta it had at least provided a _living_.

A dirty living was still better than none.

Leske had known that.

She scrubbed angrily at her eyes, and when she looked ahead again the first thing she saw was Kol, watching her from down the stone corridor. The Aeducan princess began a hesitant approach, her face a picture of trepidation, but she froze when Magna started towards her with a roar of anger.

"You treacherous _bitch!"_ the duster shouted, throwing a punch at the noble's face, then another when she missed. "You _knew _my family was relying on Bhelen, you _knew! _You promised me you'd support him and you betrayed me!"

"Magna, wait! I talked to Harrow—"

Kol's response cut off into a cry of pain as Magna landed a blow that broke her nose. Blood spattered the flagstones as she dropped to her knees. At the same time there was the distant sound of approaching guards who'd been alerted by the noise.

"Do not address me by name, Diamond Quarter," Magna hissed. "I am Dust to you. That is how you have treated me, that is how you will _address_ me, and I don't know how I ever believed a noble would think any different of a brand. You're just like the rest, caught up in your back-stabbings and grabs for power."

She spat on the polished stone floor, coldly satisfied to see the other woman flinch where she knelt clutching her face, eyes downcast and blood dripping from her injury.

"You are not my friend."

Dust stalked away.

Diamond did not try to stop her.

~ V ~

The door to Goldana's residence swung closed behind them. Alistair strode away a few paces before turning back to face his fellow Grey Wardens, looking confused and hurt.

"I expected that to turn out differently," he said.

"Because she's your blood relative?" Diamond replied. "I know something about siblings, Alistair…sooner or later they'll turn on you. Everyone's out for themselves and the sooner you learn that and toughen up the better you'll be."

"Bronto shit," Dust retorted, glaring at her fellow dwarf. "You want to know about real family? My sister stopped my mother from forcing me to whore myself to the jewelled crust of Orzammar. My _blood relative _became a noble hunter to help me and my mum. She landed a sodding prince and let him drill her mineshaft until he hit the mother lode so I wouldn't have to make a living on my back. She did it all for us, and now she thinks I betrayed her!"

The brand turned back to Alistair. "Don't listen to her slag, salroka. Goldana might be a bitch but not everyone's out to exploit you. You just gotta figure out who you can trust…like me." She grinned. "If you want a real sister, I'll be her."

"Well, thank you, but don't be my _sister _sister, please," Alistair said, smiling hesitantly. "I don't love you in…in _that_ way, you see."

"That so?" A light blush coloured the dwarf's face, but she managed a cheeky grin as she and the taller Warden walked on into the market. "You'll have to explain what you mean back in camp, salroka. And I can't wait."

The noble trailed behind with Zevran, who was silent for a time before saying quietly, "I think our fine Templar friend may soon learn the pleasures of…ah…what is the dwarven phrase? Tapping into a vein? Deep seam mining?"

"Riding the wild bronto," Diamond supplied. "Playing Hide-the-Nug."

The Antivan laughed his approval. "Where did a gently-reared and beautiful princess learn such sayings? And is that truly a dwarven game?"

Realising he was distracting her from Dust's scorn, Diamond allowed herself to grin. "This princess got into all sorts of places a proper noblewoman shouldn't go," she said loftily. "And yes, it's really a dwarven game."

"And would you be willing to teach me the rules some time?" Zevran's smile was slow and inviting. "Tonight, perhaps?"

"Mmm. We'll have to see about that. But I should warn you that I cheat horribly."

~ V ~

Taliesen was dead.

Zevran stood over his body with a look of resignation and regret.

"I'm sorry," the duster said, looking up at him. "After what happened with Leske, I…know what it's like."

"Yes," the assassin said quietly. "I believe you do. Thank you, Warden."

She nodded, bit her lip and went down the steps to where Alistair was keeping an eye out for trouble. Diamond remained with the elf.

"Is he all right?" Alistair asked.

"I dunno. I think he will be. It might depend on Diamond Quarter." She gave a little jerk of her head to where the dwarf was standing.

"I was always expecting that when the Crows turned up again he'd betray us," the Templar admitted, looking slightly ashamed. "I guess I misjudged him."

"There was every reason not to trust him, salroka."

"So why did you and Kol let him come along?"

She shrugged. "I dunno about her, but what Zevran said about his assassin guild reminded me of the carta. When Leske and me were under Beraht's thumb we did what we were told to survive. You got no choice down there. He was king of Dust Town, and you make some dumb heroic stand you get knifed in your sleep. What I had to do was survival, pure and simple, and nothing personal 'gainst anyone I might've hurt.

"Duncan gave me a way out of that life, so when I hear Zev's story I think to myself, 'Well now, Magna, you can return the favour.' Stone lifted me up so I paid it forward, see?"

"It must have been a hard life," Alistair said, "being told to go kill people, I mean."

"I was a bruiser, not an assassin. Sometimes I brawled and killed, sure, but a lot of the time it was scaring people or roughing them up to make 'em cooperate. Black eyes, knocked out teeth, broken fingers…" The duster looked away from Alistair's appalled face. "I bottled a girl's face once because Beraht didn't like her attitude," she admitted reluctantly. "He gave me plenty of motivation to cooperate, though. You can't blame me for wanting to keep my sister safe, and me alive, can you?"

"No." Alistair smoothed her hair with a gentle hand. "Never."

~ V ~

"Talk to her."

Magna looked up at Zevran, who was making no effort to hide the fact he was troubled.

"Please," the Antivan said. "She is in pain at your anger towards her and—"

The duster shot to her feet, clenching her fists. "Good. She _should _be in pain. But you know what? That's nothing compared to what my sister will suffer back in Dust Town with a fatherless child, a drunken bitch of a mother, and no one to protect her."

Zevran's expression hardened fractionally. "You will not allow Kol to explain, so allow me to do so. She broke her promise to you, yes, this is true, but your sister will not suffer for it."

Magna pushed past him roughly, deliberately shouldering her way through even though she could have easily gone around. "You don't know what the nug-fuck you're talking about, Feathers."

"Kol spoke to Harrowmont after the coronation," Zevran ploughed on, ignoring her bait, "and requested that your Rica not be cast out for her branded face. She asked that your nephew be recognised as hers, an Aeducan, and a potential heir to Orzammar's throne. Harrowmont agreed, Magna; Rica is not going back to Dust Town."

"She…wha?" Magna rounded on him, her anger faltering briefly, but then she found it again. "She still lied to me! You keep faith with your friends, you don't _betray _a salroka! Any duster knows that!"

"_Brasca_," Zevran retorted harshly. "Your Leske evidently didn't follow this code. Nor my Taliesen. Even I have turned upon one who trusted me. Do not pretend that the casteless, killers and thieves of the world are any better than the politicians and nobles; you know better than this." He seized her shoulder as she started to stalk away. "You cared nothing for that Prince Bhelen; it is Rica who mattered and is she not safe now?"

"You want to _keep _that hand, nug-humper?"

"Hey!" Alistair suddenly appeared behind Zevran and grabbed the elf's arm, pulling him away. "What do you think you're doing?" he challenged, standing protectively between the assassin and his lover.

"Never mind," Zevran said coldly. He brushed imaginary dust from his shoulder. "It would seem that I am done, no?"

Alistair scowled after the elf as he strode away, then immediately turned to Magna. "What was that about?"

"Kol," she replied honestly, if sullenly, then told him what Zevran had said. "Part of me is still really angry at her for lying, and I'm…I'm grateful for what she did for Rica, Alistair. I am. But…" She sighed. "After Leske turned on me it just hurt _worse _to be betrayed by Kol. I never would have done what they did to me."

"Are you sure?" Alistair asked carefully. "You told me before you did what you must to survive. What if, before you became a Warden…what if that Beraht person ordered you to kill Leske, and threatened Rica if you resisted or let him escape?"

"I don't know," she mumbled, but inwardly she shrank from the scenario. She probably _would _have done as ordered to protect her sister and herself.

Crouching, Alistair reached out to tug the dwarven woman closer and looked up into her eyes. "I just know that…what you were in Dust Town isn't all of you. And what Kol was in the Diamond Quarter isn't all of her. Since Duncan found you both, this is the first time you've really fought about anything, isn't it? I get that you're angry at her, but when all's said and done is it something you want to bury your friendship over?"

It wasn't, of course. She missed Kol's company, but was too proud to admit it. Instead, she leaned down the short distance to Alistair's face and planted a kiss on his lips.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"No problem," he said, beaming. "Any time you want to hear Alistair's Words of Wisdom, you know where to find me. If you need handy gardening tips or a witty anecdote about cheese, I'm your man."

~ V ~

The next day, when tents were being folded, Magna approached Kol by the breakfast fire with a small silver box in her hands.

"Here," the duster said awkwardly, thrusting the finely forged container towards the other woman. "I was going to give you this after Bhelen was crowned, to thank you, but I can still be grateful for you helping Rica."

"Zevran told you," Kol guessed. She looked torn between whether to be upset or grateful about this.

"Aye. Just open it. What's inside, I had it done in Orzammar. We have a saying in Dust Town, that not all dust is without value. In part it means 'cause you can scrape up bort and metal shards and lyrium dust, and it's all really small but you can still get gold for it. 'Course the other meaning is that not every dwarf branded casteless is worthless." She cleared her throat. "So…aye. Thanks."

Kol opened the lock with the tiny key protruding from it and lifted the lid. The interior wasn't lined, but there was a pile of extremely fine dust of some crystalline substance half-filling the box.

"It was that diamond we saw in Garin's shop in the Commons," Magna explained. "The princess cut."

"What?" Kol glanced up sharply, startled. "But that was as big as Sten's fist! It was _First Water_! Why would you have it ground up? It'll never be as expensive as the whole jewel. It'll never be the_ same_, it'll always be _less._"

"You're missing the point, salroka," Magna said. Reaching into the box, she took a large pinch of the dust, lifted it up into a beam of dawn sunlight then let it sift from her fingers in a glittering, iridescent stream. "Can you look at this and not say that it's still diamond, and still beautiful?"

Kol stared a little longer at the shining granules, then closed the box and secured the lock again with a shaking hand. "I'm sorry about Bhelen," she said in a whisper, head bowed.

"Hey…" Magna shrugged and tried to sound casual. "if he was as much a bastard as you said, Rica's probably better off without him."

"It's not just that." The exiled princess looked up, and tears stained her tattooed cheeks. Her fingers twitching around the box of diamond dust. "I killed him, Magna. I killed him _and _Trian, both my brothers, and Gorim was banished and crippled and my father is dead because I listened to Bhelen's lies, and _I'm_ _sorry_, do you understand?"

Magna hesitated only a moment before sitting beside Kol and gathering her close as she started to cry in earnest, huge sobs that felt like they were wrenched from a greater depth than the Dead Trenches.

"It's all right, salroka," she said, squeezing her friend's shoulder. "I've still got your back."

~ V ~

"_We need to talk."_

Kol and the other companions remained around the table in the Arl of Redcliffe's estate while Alistair drew Magna aside to talk. No one attempted to listen in, but the former princess cast a few covert glances towards her fellow Wardens for the one or two minutes it took for them to converse. She could only see Alistair's face…and it was torn.

After a minute or so, the new King of Ferelden left the room. Magna remained where he had left her standing for a few seconds, then also walked out and went in the opposite direction he had taken.

Kol exchanged a glance with those who looked her way, then went after her dwarven friend. She found Magna outside, sitting in the shade on the edge of the fountain, simply watching the humans, elves and the occasional dwarf going about their normal daily lives. Wordlessly, Kol sat at the duster's side.

"He said we can't be together anymore," Magna said after a long moment of silence. "I should have expected it, I suppose. I thought it'd be because I was a duster, or even because I'm a dwarf…but it's not. It's because I'm a Grey Warden, and apparently that means we can't have children together." She stared into the marketplace with dry eyes. "You know, Diamond Quarter…I thought being a Grey Warden was the best thing that could have ever happened in my life. So why does—why does it mean that I can't have the one m—man who…"

Kol watched her friend swallow hard and clench her jaw against a trembling lip. She'd never seen Magna cry, not even when Leske had died. The duster favoured anger over tears.

"But we had to make him king," Magna went on, half to herself. "Anora couldn't be trusted—she has lizardy eyes like a tezpadam, and she refused to help us when that knight Cauthrien confronted us. Self-absorbed bitch," she muttered, "only concerned with saving her own skin and grabbing power back from her dad."

Still Kol remained silent.

"He said he would always love me," the duster said quietly.

It was just possible to see Gorim's stall from where they sat. Gazing at it, Kol murmured, "Some feelings never go away. Not completely."

"But I _want _them to go away. They _hurt_." Magna dropped to the ground and faced the former princess. "I don't love him," she declared flatly, but with an edge of desperation in her voice that became more and more evident as her next words stumbled over one another. "He was a tumble on the road! A diversion! It was just for _fun _and it meant _nothing_! _He _meant nothing!"

"Don't fool yourself, Dust Town," Kol advised, trying to sound gentle. "That won't make it hurt any less. Trust me, I know."

Magna stared at her for a moment before dropping her gaze. "Why did he have to be so wonderful?" she whispered. "Why did he have to be _him_?"

She didn't pull away when Kol stood to embrace her tightly, but hugged back, wiping her eyes surreptitiously on the back of her hand.

Still locked together thus, Magna said in a shaking voice, "You and Zevran...you're lucky, Kol. I hope it lasts. I really do." With a hint of her usual humour, she added, "Just don't go and crown him the sodding King of Antiva."

The former princess gave an involuntary snort of laughter. "Wouldn't he love that? King Zevran Arainai. I'd never hear the end of it."

~ V ~

The archdemon fell, both wings useless, too broken and bloodied even to breathe its corrupted flames.

Magna and Alistair were already arguing about who should die—neither wanted the other to be sacrificed, even though he was going to be king and she had no intentions of remaining in Denerim once this was over.

Kol met Zevran's eyes. "He's got a kingdom to rule and she's got family still living," the noble said, by way of explanation.

"And you have…nothing so important that you wish to stay for?"

The elf's expression when she reached up to remove his earring from her lobe then press it into his palm almost shattered her.

"I…" he faltered. "No. Please." Anguish twisted his handsome features. "Do not do this. Do not…do not leave me. Please, Kol, I…I…"

"I know." She lifted a hand to wipe the wetness from his cheek, ignoring the tears on her own. "And I'm sorry. I can't let another brother, or my only sister, die."

Her fingers traced over his lips and he kissed them, then she touched them to her own and said, "Atrast nal tunsha. May you always find your way in the dark."

Kol tore her eyes from Zevran's despairing face, glanced over to where Alistair had lifted Magna off her feet to kiss the duster farewell, looked down at the darkspawn and Fereldens still embroiled in battle, then finally turned to the fallen archdemon and started to run…

…then died engulfed in light that pierced the ceiling of the world.

~ V ~

A cold wind was blowing.

Magna found Zevran on the balcony of his Denerim suite, still in the raiment he'd worn to the funeral. There was a goblet of something on the stone rail along with the silver box Magna had given Kol, but the elf stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the stars. He didn't turn around, or look at the dwarf when she joined him.

"They're taking her body to Orzammar tomorrow," she said after a moment. "I'm going with them. Have you…?"

Zevran shook his head. "I have not decided."

Magna bit her lip, unsure of what to say, and made to leave.

"She cared for you and Alistair to do this," Zevran said from behind her. "She cared for you a great deal."

Magna turned back. "She cared for you too, Feathers. She loved you. You know that, right?"

His blond head bowed and he didn't answer, so she left him alone.

In the morning when she came to see if he'd made his decision, the assassin was nowhere to be found and the silver box was where he'd left it but open to the dawn-blushing sky.

A thin ribbon of diamond was being carried up like a slender, scintillating rainbow, twisting with the slips of a wind that was never felt underground.

By the time Magna reached the box to close it there was only a little of the dust left within, and a single gold earring.

~ V ~

Alistair came as well, to honour a fallen Grey Warden he'd said. For the other companions, one funeral had been enough for them.

The long march back to Orzammar was a strange one; people didn't seem to know whether to celebrate or to mourn.

Gorim, who'd been Kol's second and had said words at her funeral, spoke of his memories of her fondly, if sadly. Rica, who had arrived at Alistair and Anora's wedding as an official ambassador of Orzammar, was also unhappy at missing the chance to thank her benefactor, but proud of Magna's achievements, impending status of Paragon, and founding of House Brosca.

The Ritual of Interment which would commend Kol to the Stone was a sombre affair and over quickly. Once deshyrs, shapers and the rest had left the resting place of the House Aeducan, Magna set the silver box over Kol's heart and opened it.

"Do you have the diamond, Alistair?"

"Here." He pulled it out. "There were better ones…why'd you buy one with little cracks inside?"

"Surfacers call those imperfections feather flaws, because of what the cracks look like." Magna took the jewel from him, appraised it for a silent moment, then put it in the box with dust and earring. Locking it, she removed the key.

"Oh. I…think I get it now..." Alistair paused. "You're not coming back to Denerim, are you?"

"You promised Orzammar aid against the darkspawn, so I'm going to Bownammar with the Legion to help retake the fortress." Magna watched as servants heaved the lid of the sarcophagus into place. "I don't know what I'll do after that."

"I know we can't…I mean, I'm a king now, but…" He rubbed the back of his head. "You know you can still visit. Any time you want."

Magna smiled for him. "Aye. Thanks, Alistair."

He opened his mouth to say more, looking slightly pained, but then shut it and just nodded. "Right then…"

He bowed his head respectfully to the tomb and departed. Magna sent the servants after him, then climbed atop the stone coffin and sat cross-legged on the Aeducan crest. She'd bullied a lyrium stylus from the Shaperate, managing to play her Paragon card for the first time even though it wasn't officially in her hand yet.

Pressing the sharpened blue tip to the lid, she scribed her farewell to the Stone.

~ V ~

"_Even the most prized of diamonds can be shattered and ground to dust."  
_"_Not all that is dust is without value."_  
"_See you in the Hall of Heroes, salroka."_

~ V ~


End file.
